Remember, Heads High. Smiles. They're Going To

The Anguish I Always Feel When She's In Pain Wells Up In My Chest And Threatens To Register On My Face.

Something Small And Quiet, Like A Match Being Struck, Lights Up The Gloom Inside Of Me.

Smiling Is Mostly About Smiling More.

I Pound On The Glass, Screaming My Head Off. Everyone Ignores Me Except For Some Capitol Attendant Who Appears Behind Me And Offers Me A Beverage.

Yes, Victors Are Our Strongest. They're The Ones Who Survived The Arena And Slipped The Noose Of Poverty That Strangles The Rest Of Us. They, Or Should I Say We, Are The Very Embodiment Of Hope Where There Is No Hope. And Now Twenty-three Of Us Will Be Killed To Show How Even That Hope Was An Illusion.